


JeanMarco 365 project

by spaceyho



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Hella, I don't even know what to tag this as, M/M, jeanmarco, p much just Jean being a little shit and Marco being cute as always, smut to come ever sunday, well mostly modern anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceyho/pseuds/spaceyho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>365 moments in the lives of Jean and Marco. Lots of fluff, angst and smut to ensue.</p><p>There will be a new chapter everyday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Keys

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely 100% inspired by [ this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1135765#main) beautiful Ereri project and Nowl gave me permission to use the idea to do one for JeanMarco!
> 
> I will be using the same rules for this project and those are as follows:
> 
> 1\. Every chapter has to be between 300 and 3,000 words.  
> 2\. Every Sunday with be a Smut prompt challenge.  
> 3\. Every chapter has to at least mention both Jean and Marco or else it wouldn't be an JEANMARCO project.

It’s an odd weight in his hand, Jean thinks. It’s not heavy, not physically, but it is weighed down with meaning. He turns it over in his hand, sort of absently as he stares unblinking at the beigie door in front of him. He takes in a breath through his nose and lets it out the same way. The elevator chimes it’s arrival and Jean turns to where Marco steps out, carrying two boxes stacked so that Jean can’t actually see his face.

“Want some help?” he offers, his voice thick with something - something new - and already walking toward the other man.

“I’m fine!” comes the chipper reply, muffled slightly from the cardboard that is clearly balanced against the brunette’s face. Jean is already there anyway, so he takes the top box in his own arms, smiling at Marco now that he can see him properly. Marco returns the smile, warm and inviting and Jean wants to wrap himself in the feeling it gives him, safe, like this _is_ the right thing to do and the small piece of metal that is curled up in his fist doesn’t feel as heavy any more.

“Come on, let’s get these in,” Jean suggests with a nod toward their door. Their door. That’s something new. He sets the box down on top of the ones he’d already brought up and then uncurls his hand to look at the small gold key in his hand. He hadn’t even put it on his keyring yet. With a small breath, he unlocks the door and opens it.

The apartment isn’t terribly nice and it has a smell that’s reminiscent of tires, but Jean finds himself smiling anyway. This is their place and this is the most important decision they’ve ever made. The most important and the best, he decides. He turns back to Marco, picking the box back up and smiling wider. He can’t help it. He’s finally moving in with Marco. They’re going to live together in their own place.

He hears Marco set down his box behind him and he turns to see the brunette with his hands on his hips and a small smile curling at his lips as he looks around. “We made a good choice,” he announces and Jean knows he’s talking about the apartment, but he also can’t help but think that he’s made the right choice in Marco too.

Marco turns to look at him then, still smiling, “We’re going to live here. Together,” he says, as if that’s not all Jean has been thinking about for like, weeks. Jean nods anyway, chuckling.

“It is a nice place. Even if it does smell like a euthanized rubber rat in here.”  
Marco smacks him lightly for that particular description, but he laughs too, “We’ll get some candles or something,” he suggests before turning to get one of the other boxes.

As soon as they have the first four boxes inside sitting in the middle of the floor, Jean takes the key from his pocket and clips it to his key ring, making it final.


	2. Day2: Morning

Forgetting to close the curtains before he goes to bed is always the worst mistake Jean makes. As soon as the sun rises, he feels it leak through his window and bleed out into his room filling everything with a faded warmth that wakes him up at the crack of dawn. He hates it. He blinks, willing the bright orb to go back below the horizon for just five more minutes so he might get to sleep a bit longer, but it's to no avail. So he sighs and goes to stretch his arms over his head. This becomes complicated when he realizes that there is someone next to him.

Initially, he panics, his eyes flying open and his brain instantly awake. Then he remembers. A smile graces his lips and he breathes out. Marco stayed over. Marco stayed over. This is important. This is the most important thing that has ever happened to Jean. Marco stayed over at his apartment. Jean lets out a short breath, smiling despite his earlier annoyance at being awoken. He lifts a tentative hand, brushing Marco's short hair from his forehead, trying not to wake him.

He fails though, and lets out a sigh when the brunette stirs beside him, making a small noise as he blinks his eyes open.

"Jean?" Jean can't help but smile a bit wider at the grogginess in Marco's voice, "What time is it?" the taller boy asks, sitting up slightly and rubbing the dirt from his eyes and Jean takes just a second to appreciate that this God of a man has decided to bless him with his presence.

"About six I think."

"Shit. Why so early?" Marco burries himself back in Jean's comforter and Jean let's out a small chuckle, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Sun woke me up. Forgot to close the curtains." He leans back over and presses a small kiss to the brown mop of hair that is only barely sticking out from under his covers. He stands then, basking in the fresh sunlight with not a scrap of clothing on him and stretches his arms over his head, "I was gonna make some coffee. If I boil some water for tea for you, will you join me?" Marco makes a small noise that Jean takes as an affirmation and he heads to the kitchen without bothering to put any clothes on.

Making coffee is sort of an automatic thing for Jean now, so it requires zero brain activity, which allows his mind to wander something feirce. As a force of habit, it wanders in the direction of Marco. He smiles to himself and lets out a small sigh as he sets water boiling for Marco's tea. He's so wrapped up in thoughts about Marco that he doesn't even notice when the man himself wanders in with his comforter wrapped around his bare frame like a cape. 

It isn't until Marco let's out a small whistle and Jean turns to find him sitting at the table with a small smirk on his freckled face that Jean sees him.

Jean chuckles and shakes his head, "Enjoying the view?"

"Mm. Definitely."

Jean laughs again he can't help think that he'd be happy to spend all of his mornings like this.


	3. Day 3: Words

It's so entirely and completely dumb Jean thinks, that he doesn't even know this other kid's name but he can't get him out of his stupid head. It's driving him nuts. They have Lit together and History and Jean always finds himself looking forward to those classes. History is mostly lectures, but Lit gives him free time to stare in front of him and slightly to the left where sits the most adorable fucking man he has ever seen. He still doesn't know his name.

His brown hair is cropped in a sort of dorky undercut, but Jean thinks it suits his smiling face littered with freckles. Sometimes Jean wonders if those freckles continue over the rest of his skin, down his shoulders maybe or along his legs, his hips and- and that's where Jean has to stop because no good comes from thinking like that. 

Jean's not sure how to describe what this stranger makes him feel but it's somewhere in the zone of on fire and wracked with shivers. It's a good kind of feeling though. Sort of. What's not good is when Jean tries to express how it makes him feel. His Lit professor is always talking about how writing changed these authors lives and how it was an outlet for them. When they spend a few weeks analyzing poetry, Jean thinks he has an idea.

He's fucking terrible at poetry. But that doesn't stop him. Even after the poetry lesson is done, he doesn't stop. He's filled almost an entire notebook with his shit words, trying to get out of his system what he feels. By then, he's learned the boy's name is Marco. It suits him, Jean thinks. It's soft and warm sounding and makes Jean smile like an idiot.

He has to refrain from that though, especially in the middle of class. So he does his best to focus on the lecture, but there's Marco sitting right in front of him and he just has to do something to he pulls out his notebook, makes like he's takig notes but he's just writing, words spilling from his brain to his pencil in probably the sorriest excuse for poetry anyone ever would have read.

He surveys his words, reading them over, a frown taking purchase on his lips. The professor dismisses the class and Jean stands with a sigh. It's his worst one yet and even he doesn't want to read it again. He rips it from his notebook with perhaps a bit too much vigor an crumples it up, tossing it the waste bin.

Maybe eventually he'll be able to get Marco out of his head.

Part of him hopes he doesn't.


	4. Day 4: Wallet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (shit life is hard with out internet. Sorry this is late.. whoops)

Jean almost couldn't believe it when he heard the word 'yes' uttered from Marco's lips, and he definitely couldn't contain his grin once the initial shock had worn off.

Two years. Jean had known Marco for two years and he'd been hoplessly in love with him the whole time, right from the second he laid eyes on him. Once Jean had actually gotten the courage to go talk to him, they had practically become instant BFFs. Jean was just afraid that if he asked for something more he might lose what he already had, and he hadn't wanted to risk that. However, after much prompting and encouragement from Armin and Reiner, Jean finally decided 'fuck it' and got the courage to ask Marco on a real date.

And he said yes.

He said yes!

Jean felt like he couldn't breathe.

So that friday, at six, the two of them left in Jean's shitty pick-up and headed down-town. He knew Marco liked fondue, so he was taking him to a place he'd heard was good, but he'd never been himself.

It was a sort of dimly lit resturaunt with a warm atmosphere and an extremely pleasant aroma. Jean started to feel a little bit better. Until their waiter showed up.

"Good evening, my name is- Jean? Marco?"

Jean's head snapped up at his name, confused at first, then his eyes bugged, "Jeager? What are you doing here?"

Like the fucking jerk that he was, Eren Jeager - a member of their group of friends who Jean only tolerated really - rolled his eyes and pointed at the small apron around his hips, "I work here dumbass. And if you were ever doing anything other than day dreaming about Marco, you'd know that."

Both of the other boy's faces turned a bit red at that.

"Anyway, as I was saying: My name is Eren and I will be your server tonight. Our special tonight is the seafood experience and since I know neither of you is twenty-one yet, I wont bother with the wine list."

After that though, thinks started to smooth over, though Jean sort of felt like he was in a constant state of embarassment. He's burnt his tongue on one of the first fondues, nearly spilled his drink, and he couldn't seem to get a normal sentence out. It was so frustrating. They talked all the time, were practically insperable and never had Jean had a hard time finding what to say, why was it so different now that it was a date?

Jean felt like the whole thing had kind of been a disaster and he just hoped Marco would still want to be his friend after this. He'd survived this long on unrequitted love this long he could continue.

When the bill came, Marco reached for his wallet, but Jean put his foot down, "I don't think so, Bodt," he protested, "I asked you, I'm paying."

"Jean I don't mind. I can pay or we can split-"

"Nope. I'm getting this, no complaining," and he reached into his jacket pocket. Which was empty. And so was his other pocket. And all of his pants pockets. His face fell and he let out a low groan, droppng his head into his hands. He'd forgotten his fucking wallet, "Shhhhhhhhhit."

"I guess I'm paying after all?" Marco sounded almost smug the little bastard.

Jean was so embarassed, he barely spoke the whole way back. He pulled up infront of Marco's apartment and like the gentlemen he was, walked him to the door. He started to open his mouth to apologize, but was sileneced immediately bt Marco's lips on his, pulling the breath from him.

Marco was kissing Jean.

It took Jean a few seconds to recover from the shock of that fact before he kissed back, liting a hand to card through dark hair. Marco pulled away way too soon, but he was smiling and Jean's breath was gone again.

"This was fun," Marco smiled wider and Jean almost couldn't believe it when he added, "We should do this again. Soon."

Jean nodded dumbly as Marco opened his door and waved a goodbye. As Jean was turning to head back to his truck, he heard the door open again.

"And Jean?" Jean looked over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, "Next time, you are paying, so don't forget your wallet, yeah?"


	5. Day 5: Piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yes two chapters today because of my recent lack of internet although, this one's kind of short)

There was always something calming to Marco about having his fingers flitting over the ivory keys of a piano. When he was younger, he'd resented having to learn the instrument, but as he got older, he'd fallen inlove with it's ability to express so many different emotions from soft lilting lullabies to strong concertos. They kind of reminded him of a certain man he'd married.

At the current moment, he wasn't playing anything in particular, just letting his fingers wander as they wished, plucking out a soft tune of nothingness. He was glad to have moments like these. Jean sat on their couch, feet tucked under him, reading a book. Marco glanced sideways at him as he played softly and smiled.

The serene moment was interruped by a soft cry from the other room.

"I got it," Jean muttered softly, setting his book down and standing to retrieve their daughter who had apparently just woke from her nap. Marco smiled as he watched his husband leave and as the distressed sounding cries slowly turned to soft cooing, Marco picked his melody back up, a little lighter now. Slow soft footsteps annoucned the arrival of Jean just behind his shoulder with an armful of a baby girl. Marco glanced up breifly to smile before turning back to the keys.

He switched from just making it up as he went to a soft lullaby he'd learned when he was young that he used to play to calm himself down from anxiety attacks. He could play it in his sleep now. Ashton, their little angel, sat in her father's arms, amber eyes wide open as she seemed transfixed by the movement of Marco's fingers. Jean on the other hand was staring dotingly down at their daughter, humming along softly as he rocked her slightly.

"You're such a good dad, I don't know what you were so worried about," Marco commented, the melody never faltering. Jean just snorted slightly.

"Glad it looks like I know what I'm doing."

Marco rolled his eyes and turned his attention to their daughter, "Ashy, your father is silly you know that?" she just gigged in response, but Marco took that as an agreement.


	6. Day 6: Candle (Smut Sunday #1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it's late I'm sorry here

Sometimes it's exhausting. 'It' meaning everything. School, working, being alive, keeping a relationship. Stress is a very real thing in Jean's life as a senior at Trost University and sometimes small things slip his mind. Okay big things slip his mind too, and a vast majority of people would definitely consider his electricity bill a big thing.

He had a huge exam in his financing class that he hadn’t been nearly as prepared for as he thought he had been and when he gets back to his apartment, all he wants to do is curl up on his couch with Marco and watch reruns of Friends. That’s not what happens though.

He huffs as he struggles with his keys and then with the stupid door itself that never wants to open. He finally gets in and almost aggressively flicks the light switch. Nothing happens. He frowns and sets his bag down, flicking the switch back and forth again. He’s confused at first because there’s power in the rest of the building. Then it hits him. He missed the payment due last week. He groans, not because he doesn’t have the money to go pay it right now, but because it was late he was sure the office would be closed and he’d have to wait until tomorrow.

“Jean?” 

It was then that Jean notices that there’s a small amount of light coming from the living room, which was also where Marco’s voice had come from. He leaves his bag in the entryway and makes his way toward his boyfriend who was pretty much the only person he wants to see right now and he figures he can at least go through with the first half of his plan and curl up on his couch with Marco.

When he’s in the living room he sees that the source of the light was a candle that Marco had lit and set on the table next to the couch. Jean smiles at the sight of Marco though and all the stress from that day just floods from his body as Marco returns the smile. That smile could cure a rainy day, Jean is sure.

He doesn’t even say hi, just makes his way over to Marco and wraps his arms around his waist, burying his face in his neck and listening to the sound of him breathing and re-memorizing the steady beat of his heart. It’s the best sound in the universe.

“You seem like you had a hard day,” Marco mutters and Jean pulls back just enough to look at Marco’s face. 

Jean nods, “No kidding.”

“Well, in my personal experience, and according to years of research,” Marco starts, like he’s about to go off on some scientific spiel, “There’s one sure-fire way to cure that.”  
Jean looks confused at first, cocking an eyebrow, though in the dim light, he’s not sure Marco sees.

There’s silence for a moment before Marco answers in a very serious tone, “A blow job.”

Jean is stunned for a moment, then he bursts out laughing, so hard his stomach starts to hurt, “God I love you,” he mutters before kissing his boyfriend.

Marco chuckles, but when they part he adds, “I’m serious. Sit.” He points at the couch.

Jean laughs lightly, but he’s not really arguing, so he complies and when Marco kneels in front of him, situation himself between Jean’s knees and looking up at him, Jean knows he’s already half hard.

Marco’s good at this. Like, mind-blowingly good - no pun intended. He nuzzles at the front of Jean’s pants and already a small happy noise leaves Jean’s lips. Marco meets his eyes again as he leans forward, lips over the button of Jean’s pants and at first Jean is confused until Marco pulls away and Jean sees that he undid the button with his tongue, “Shit…” he mutters and Marco smirks as he takes the zipper in his teeth, pulling it down.

The brunette pulls Jean’s length out, running his thumb over the head for a moment before he ducks his head and licks a long thick stripe up from base to tip and Jean makes an embarrassing throaty noise. Marco just smirks again like the smug bastard he is and then his lips are around the head and he’s slowly sinking down until Jean can feel the back of his throat and Marco swallows around him, making Jean groan loudly again.

Marco knows just how to work him over, like he’s got this perfected down to an art, making small slurping noises and humming the back of his throat. He knows how to bring Jean to the edge again and again, stopping just short of toppling over until finally Jean bites out Marco’s name on a broken groan and Marco spares him, sucking hard with his lips sealed around the base of Jean’s dick and that’s all it takes.

Jean's pretty sure he invents at least three new swear words when he comes.

Marco licks his lips and stands leaning in to kiss Jean before he curls up next to him, "Told you," he mutters and Jean just laughs and kisses him again


	7. Day 7: Pottery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And have an extra chapter today as an apology

It’s no secret that Jean loves to draw. It’s all he does really, so when he decides that he’s going to go to school for art, it comes as a shock to absolutely no one. What seems to surprise himself though is what he ends up falling in love with. Graphic design. After his freshman year, completely switched what he was planning and declared himself a graphic design major with a minor in business.

And Jean is good at what he does. He’s always in the top of his class and some of the other students resent him for it, while some of them are in awe of him. Either way, it feels good for him to know what he wants to do.

Even so, he’s still in an arts school and sometimes you just have to take a class for the hell of it. He has a credit to fill his junior year, and after much prodding and urging from his boyfriend -boyfriend Marco was his boyfriend now and how fucking cool is that - he agreed to take the stupid pottery class. He’s never been one for sculpting or ceramics or anything three-dimensional, really. But Marco had pleaded with him with those big brown eyes and goddammit he knows Jean can never say no to those eyes.

So he’s taking pottery. 

On the upside, Marco is in the class with him, so there’s that. He could have gotten stuck with the Tuesday/Thursday classes instead of the Monday/Wednesday classes, so he’s grateful. Even so, it’s an adventure for him.

He’s terrible. Fucking terrible. 

Marco pretends he doesn’t laugh, but Jean knows he does.

What surprises him though is that he can do alright on the wheel. That surprises Marco too. He says it took him months to get the hang of it. But Jean suspects that’s a bit of an exaggeration because Marco is fucking awesome on the wheel. Of course, Marco is fucking awesome at like everything, but pottery really is his forte. He too had declared a different major than he originally planned, majoring in primary education rather than sculpture. 

But there they both are, taking a pottery class together for the hell of it because they both needed the credit and Marco is a persuasive little bastard.

Jean’s got his knees on either side of the wheel, covered in terra cotta clay up to his elbows and he’s glad he’s got an apron on otherwise his clothes would be ruined too. Just the tip of his tongue is peeking out from his lips as it does when he’s focused on something. His hands are really too jittery for the wheel, but he finds it calms him down, lets his mind go blank and he just enjoys the feeling of clay slipping over the palms of his hands as he does his best to shape his work.

He’s almost got it to a point where he might actually be pleased with it, but all that comes crashing down when he feels eyes on him. He turns and sure enough, Marco is standing, leaning against one of the shelves for pieces that need to be fired, and just smiling at Jean, “You’re adorable you know.” 

Jean opens his mouth to deny it, but lets it go with a sigh instead, “Whatever,” he mutters and starts the wheel back up. It’s too late though, he’s been pulled from his zone and when he presses in just a bit more on the vase, it all warps and when he stops the wheel, he’s left with the mangled remains of what might have once been a semi-decent vase. He turns to glare at Marco, “This is all your fault,” he accuses, but he can’t really be mad, not with how Marco’s looking at him.

“I dunno. I kind of like it.” Jean doesn’t, but Marco insists that it be fired, “I’m keeping it forever,” he promises. And he does.


	8. Day 8: Ink

"Shit fucking godamn piece of fucking-" 

Marco smiled lightly as he rounded the corner because he recognized the voice that went along with that eloquent string of expletives. He leaned against the door frame of the printer room as he watched Jean struggle with the largest of the machines in the room.

"You've fucking got to be fucking kidding me you complete and utter fucking horse shit."

Marco chuckled at that one, announcing his presence and Jean turned, eyes wide and face red like he was a kid caught with his hand in the fucking cookie jar. It was the most adorable thing ever and Marco couldn't help but grin, head cocked slightly to the side.

"Having some troubles, Kirchstein?" Marco smiled just a bit wider as he looked Jean over. They younger boy had toner all over his hands, on the front of his shirt and even on his face and in his hair. It was hilarious.

"Don't fucking start with me Bodt," Jean growled, though it was evident he was relieved that it was Marco and not someone else.

"Okay but seriously, what did you do?" 

Jean sighed, thinking that Marco really had no right to look so smug and yet be able to calm Jean down as much as he did. He scrubbed a hand through his two-toned hair, probably getting more ink in it, but whatever, "I don't even fucking know man. I just needed to make six copies of this poster for GD and-" he sighed and threw his hands up, gesturing toward the malfucntioning machine.

Then Marco had the gal to fucking chuckle at that and Jean sighed again, "Don't stress about it, calm down," he urged with a small smile, stepping over to Jean and eyeing the large copier. He gave it a moment, then turned and pressed a light kiss to Jean's lips, making his scowl disappear for just a moment, but it was long enough. Jean blinked for a moment because Oh yeah. That's right. Sometimes he forgot that recently he had become the luckiest man in the world and Marco Fucking Freckled Jesus Bodt was his boyfriend. He felt himself relax a little.

Marco leaned in to get a closer look at the copier then, studying he screen, then crouching to open one of the small hatches. He grimmaced, then pulled out a small cartridge that was absolutely coated in blue ink to match that all over Jean. Marco held up the messy thing and looked at Jean, "Good news is, you didn't fuck up, someone else did," he sighed and tossed the thing in the trash, "Some one put the wrong size ink cartridge in and it fucked up the system." He sighed and stood, heading over to the cupboard to grab the right size, "What a waste," he muttered, then as he headed back to the copier added, "Bad news is I think you need to go back to elementary school and learn how to read." He replaced the ink then stood up, a half smirk on his stupid freckled face, "It said on the screen that there was a problem with the ink cartridges."

Jean just groaned, "I hate your stupid smart face."

"No you don't," Marco said simply, kissing Jean's temple.

"No I don't," Jean agreed with a small smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Jean. You and your foul mouth...


	9. Day 9: Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about this one

Marco can tell that Jean is on edge. Which is weird, because he's not the one with a broken wrist. Jean has spent all three days that Marco has been in the hospital practically by his side. He wasn't allowed in the room when the cast was being put on, but other than that, even if Marco was asleep or if Jean was, he was there in the chair beside him.

So now Marco doesn't understand why Jean seems so tense. They're checking out, Marco filling out the last of the paperwork while Jean drums away on the counter with his fingers, his near permanent scowl even more prominent.

"Alright, you're all set. Have a good day!" The nurse is chipper and there's a smile on her face and Marco returns it.

"You two," he responds with a small wave as he and Jean exit the hospital. They've barely made it out the door before Jean has his arms around Marco's shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug, and Marco is caught off guard for a moment. It takes a second for Marco to realize that Jean was trembling, just slightly.

"Jean...?" 

"I was so scared... When I got that call... I was so fucking scared Marco, that... That something bad, something really bad had happened."

Marco smooths his good hand over Jean's back, "Jean, it's okay I'm-"

"No it's not okay dammit!" Jean pulls back suddenly, taking Marco's face in his hands, really looking at him, "Marco, you were mugged for fucks sake!"

"No, he tried to mug me. I put him in the hospital, Jean, I'm more worried about him."

"He put you in the hospital too!"

"I have a broken wrist and a few bruises. And I still have my wallet. That's not quite the same thing as three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. I took self defense classes, you know."

"I know," Jean finally admits finally, closing his eyes and resin this forehead against Marco's, "I just... You scared me, Marco. You scared me bad," his words are shaky, but he seems to have calmed down slightly.

"I know. I know I'm sorry, I should be more careful." 

Jean is quiet again for a long moment then he lets out a low breath.

"Let's go home, yeah?" Marco suggests.

"Yeah," Jean agrees quietly.


	10. Day 10: Flour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (why did I decide to do this this was a terrible idea I am horrible at organizing my time. Expect three chapters later today)

Jean swears as he pulls the overdone cake out of the oven. It really is not a pleasant sight and it makes the entire kitchen smell like.. burnt. A grimace takes its’ place on his mouth and he places his hands on his hips, glaring at the offending thing. Well, at least he gave himself plenty of time. He glances at the clock. 11:04. He has just about four hours until Marco got home. Time to start all over.

He sets the ruined cake to the side, to hot to really doing anything with at the moment and goes back to the cupboards. That was the last box of cake mix and he really doesn’t want to go to the store. He sighs again. He’s been doing that a lot today, but he is determined to make this goddamn cake. It was Marco’s first day teaching and that was a huge thing and Jean wanted to surprise him with a cake to celebrate. Marco loves cake. 

Jean taps his fingers on the counter, frowning. Well, they’ve got to have flour and eggs and… what else did you need to make cake from scratch? Jean quickly pulls out his phone and googles a recipe. It seems simple enough. He chews at his lip, nodding as he looks over the ingredients, making sure they already have everything, because if he was gonna have to go to the store anyway he was just gonna buy a box. 

It seemed pretty simple in theory, but Jean winds up making a rather large mess in the kitchen and on himself. He finally gets the stupid thing out of the oven around 3:00, but by that time, he has to choose whether to decorate it or clean up. He goes for the former, taking out the jar of frosting and doing his best to put an even coat on it, which proves rather difficult, but he manages. He takes out the strawberries he bought and goes to work slicing the ends off to put them on the cake. 

He’s just placing the last strawberry on when he hears the door open and Marco’s pleasant voice fills the house.

“Jean? You home?”

Jean grimaces at the mess in the kitchen, but yells back, “Yeah! I’m in the kitchen.” He then picks up the plate with the cake and sets it on the table, then pokes his head around the corner, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Marco pauses, taking in Jean’s appearance, “Have you been baking?”

Jean looks taken aback for a moment, “How did you know?”

Marco just laughs, “There’s flour in your hair and all over your face you giant dork.” he steps up to Jean and presses a kiss to the shorter man’s forehead before peeking around to look at the table, “Ooh strawberries!”

“I’m sorry it’s not very pretty…” Jean mumbles, looking down a bit and now feeling very conscious of the fact that he wasn’t really that kind of artist. And of the fact that the kitchen currently looked like about four bakeries had exploded.

“Are you kidding?” Marco raises his eyebrows, turning back to Jean with a small smile, “It’s gorgeous. Almost as gorgeous as you,” and then Marco kisses him and Jean feels better about everything.


	11. Day 11: Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Wow having a death flu really takes it out of you sorry for like zero updates lately)

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this for you guys again,” Anyone who doesn’t really know Sasha would think she sounds annoyed, but, the three men in the room with her knew different. 

“You can’t believe it?” Is Connie’s laughing response to his wife, a hand on her shoulder, “I can’t believe _I_ agreed to let you do this for them again,” he chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to Sasha’s temple.

“Well, no take-backs now.” Jean adds in a very serious tone, eyebrows raised and Marco elbows him until they’re all laughing again. 

“But seriously, Sasha, Connie, we… we can’t thank you enough,” There’s a soft smile on Marco’s lips as he says this, and Jean puts an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s no trouble, really,” She assures him and Connie scoffs.

“No trouble? You don’t have to deal with yourself when you’re pregnant!” he protests with a grin only to be elbowed rather hard by Sasha, which seemed to be a running thing with these four. Connie laughs then, right as the door opens.

“Mrs. Springer?” The doctor is addressing Sasha, obviously, but all four heads turn toward the woman in the white coat. She’s holding a chart and there’s a light curl to the corner of her lips, “Are you ready?” Sasha nods and the doctor instructs the three men to move to the other side of her bed as she sets up the machinery.

Jean looks so nervous he might actually rupture something, so Marco takes his hand in his, and gives him a faint smile, hoping to reassure him. It seems to work, as Marco sees Jean’s shoulders relax slightly and he lets out a breath he probably didn’t realize he was holding.

“This is gonna be cold,” the doctor warns Sasha, who makes a face then nods as the cream is spread over her stomach, then sucks in a sharp breath.

“Damn. You weren’t kidding,” Sasha breathes out and the others in the room chuckle lighty. The sound dies down though when an image appears on the screen. It’s oddly shaped, like a rounded trapezoid, but the blurry black and white form inside of that is enough to pull everyone’s face into a wide grin.

“Wow..” Jean is the first to say something and it’s about what everyone there is thinking, despite the fact that this isn’t the first time any of them have done this. Sasha is beaming up at the other couple and Marco looks like he might cry he’s so happy.

“Did you want to know the gender?” the doctor asks, breaking the silence and looking up at Jean and Marco.

The two look at each other, as if consulting, then nod together, both looking nervous again, though they both decided awhile ago that they didn’t care, they were just hoping for a healthy kid.

The doctor smiles, then adjusts the small device on Sasha’s stomach.

“It’s a boy,” she informs them with a smile and the room seems to let out a breath.

“Ashton’s not gonna be too excited,” Marco chuckles, “She wanted a little sister.”

“I’m sure she’ll get over,” Jean comments, his hand still in Marco’s, but his eyes glued to that black and white screen, an unmistakable grin on his face.

There’s a silence in the room for a moment as all of the inhabitants marvel over the small life growing inside their friend.

Connie is the one to break the silence “So have you guys thought about names yet?”

“We’re not naming him after you if that’s what you’re asking, Baldie,” Jean grins, nudging his friend with his shoulder.

“Aw come on! Why not?”

“Because then he might turn out like you!” Sasha interjects, and Connie makes some exasperated noises in response.

“But seriously, we did have a few in mind already,” Marco speaks up, bringing the conversation back around, “Jean liked William, but I was fond of Aleczander. So we compromised,” he shrugs.

“Aleczander William Kirschtein,” Jean nods, “What do you guys think?”

“Sounds…. Regal,” Sasha comments and Connie laughs lightly, nodding his agreement.

“I think that’s a wonderful name,” the doctor adds, “And I’m assuming you’ll want pictures again?”

Marco thinks the only one who nods more enthusiastically than him is Jean.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to reiterate the rules and the idea of this project, there will be one chapter posted everyday based off of a single idea - which I will take suggestions for if you have one! You can drop them by my inbox on tumblr - my url is cockslutkirk. Mostly they'll stay in the same modern setting universe, but occasionally I might have a few other AUs or some set in the canon verse. 
> 
> Also whoo this is a big project for me and it's gonna be fun to see if I can balance this with real life. Yay.


End file.
